


occupational hazards

by cisphobickarkat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humanstuck, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, sitcom kinda!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cisphobickarkat/pseuds/cisphobickarkat
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, you’re twenty-seven years old, and you work in Sales.(davekat but they’re dumb coworkers in love)
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 26
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they were coworkers oh my god they were coworkers..... 
> 
> tw for alcohol-induced vomit towards the end of this chapter

Your name is Dave Strider, you’re twenty-seven years old, and you work in Sales. You never really _intended_ to, it just kinda... happened. One moment, there you were, a freshly minted college grad off to mix some beats and fuck shit up, totally useless music degree in hand, and now here you are, having taken an acrobatic fucking pirouette directly off your teenage dreams and landed ass-first into a reality that consists mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.

You’ve been in your current job, at Crockercorp Paper Company, for a little over five years now. It’s not a good job, even by your admittedly pretty shitty standards. Your boss scares the crap out of you, your coworkers are all dead inside, and the office coffee isn’t even that good. You should’ve found another job a long time ago. You _could’ve_ , even. You’re not a particularly good salesman, but you have an instinct for when to push a sale and when to let it be, and you interview fairly well. You’re pretty sure you could get the hell outta dodge and make twice your current salary, could have a better title and decent coffee, and could even, maybe, have your own office instead of half a desk in an open floor plan.

But you’ve got no intention of leaving CPC, for a shit ton of not-really-good reasons and one Really Good Reason. The Really Good Reason’s name is Karkat, and he’s the receptionist. Karkat is short and cranky and wears sweaters everyday and has a (hilarious) tendency to glare at people like they murdered his mother and shat on her corpse. You’d seen the full force of one of those glares on your first day at CPC, and then on your second, and then on your third and fourth and fifth. Animosity grew quickly between the both of you, and riling him up for shits and giggles became part of your everyday routine. It went on like that for maybe a month and a half, till the one night you stayed overtime and caught him watching 50 First Dates on his work computer, crying while Adam Sandler sang about Drew Barrymore’s ass with his shitty ukulele, and felt your heart grow three times in size like the fucking Grinch. Every habit of his you used to find annoying soon became flat out adorable, and your initial contempt softened into something way more endearing, and then you saw him really _smile_ at you for the first time since you’d met him and it was all downhill from there.

You were still recovering from the full-force effect of his smile, your thoughts only just beginning to morph from a silent scream of holy SHIT into a hazy fantasy of making out with him on your loveseat while watching one of his lame ass romcoms, when your mind flashed back to the New Employee Manual you’d received on your first day at CPC and slapped you in the face with the fact that intra-office relationships are strictly off limits.

And so you’ve been, for the last five years, existing in the pants-shittingly torturous balance of knowing that you’ll never be able to date Karkat so long as you both work at CPC, and fearing that if you ever _do_ leave the company, you’ll lose the certainty of seeing him every weekday between eight-thirty and five-thirty on the dot.

And all of that’s without even getting into the glaring fact that you aren’t at all sure whether Karkat even feels the same way. There are the fond glares, yeah, and the way he always lights up when he sees you in the morning but vehemently tries to deny it. There’s the softness in his voice when he thanks you for picking up a coffee for him at the cafe downstairs, and the way he always fails to keep himself from laughing even at your shittiest jokes, and the sorta warm exasperation in his voice when he calls you an asshole or fuckface or shithead or something. But all those things may, you tell yourself stubbornly, whenever you’re feeling particularly sappy and hopeful, just be Karkat being Karkat. He’s kinda like that with everyone, after all. The textbook definition of tsundere. Cranky as hell with a secret gooey chocolate center and all these hidden feelings and shit.

So you live in a state of mind-numbing uncertainty, plucking the petals off an imaginary flower like some sorta fairy tale princess, hoarding every bickerment and brush of fingertips and rare toothy smile like they were priceless treasures, as though enough maybes might someday add up to _yes_.

And when the branch manager of CPC Houston, Feferi, comes out of her office to announce that her latest team-building idea is a Sales versus Operations trivia contest, your first thought isn’t ‘how the hell is that supposed to facilitate team-building’ or ‘who the fuck invented team-building anyway.’ (those are all thoughts you have; they just aren’t the first.) Your first thought is that you and Karkat are gonna be on different teams.

“So,” says Feferi, in the cheerful boom of someone who has no obligations outside of work and has probably never considered that anyone else might, “we’ll all go down to the bar tomorrow at six. Trivia starts at six-thirty, it’ll be fun! Any questions?”

“Yeah,” says Sollux in Accounting, “is this mandatory?”

A general murmur of assent ripples through the office.

“Well,” Feferi says, as though she hasn’t even considered that anyone might not want to give up their Friday evening for a work trivia night (which, to be honest, she probably hasn’t), “hm, I don’t know if it...I guess...” She glances over at Tavros from Personnel, who shakes his head with a helpless look on his face. “Um. No. Not mandatory, I guess.”

“Great,” Sollux says, “then I’m out.”

“But!” Feferi says hurriedly, “the prize for the winning team is an extra day off! With pay. So. Keep that in mind!”

The rumble of discontent quickly turns into a rumble of interest.

Feferi claps her hands together and beams. “Great! So, back to work, everyone, and get ready for trivia night!” she says, scurrying back to her office.

You let your gaze gravitate to where it always does, Reception. Karkat’s typing away on his computer, at what looks from far away like work but is probably the draft of the romance novel he’d told you he was writing but has never let anyone read. With casualness that you’ve gotten good at pretending you have, you get up from your chair and stroll the few feet to Reception, forcing yourself to look like you’re completely focused on choosing which candy to pick from the bowl on Karkat’s desk. (the truth is, you don’t really like candy, but you’ve gained five pounds and two cavities since the beginning of your employment at CPC because eating the stuff gives you an excuse to talk to karkat during work hours and jesus christ you have it bad don’t you)

“Sup, man,” you say, stuffing a Sweet Tart into your mouth. “So this trivia night thing, huh? You, uh, you going?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Karkat says, still typing away on his computer. “Kanaya’s probably gonna drag me with her, and I don’t really have anything better to do, so. Yeah.”

“Oh. Cool.”

He throws you a glance. “Are you? Going, I mean.”

 _Yeah_ , you kinda wanna say, _I’d go anywhere you went, dude._ “Eh, I dunno. A day off sounds pretty nice right about now,” you say, instead.

“You should—” Karkat’s phone rings, and he rolls his eyes. “Hold on, let me get this. Crockercorp Paper Company, how may I direct your call?”

You snort at his customer service voice and he shoots you a vicious glare.

“I’ll transfer you, please hold,” Karkat says, and fusses over the buttons of his phone for a few seconds before pressing a few of them and slamming the phone back in its cradle. “Anyway, like I was saying,” he continues, “you should come. To trivia night. It fucking kills me to admit it but I’d probably pop a blood vessel without you.”

You swallow, nod. “Yeah, I don’t think I got anything—”

You’re cut off by Karkat’s phone ringing again. He curses and picks it up again. “Crockercorp Paper Company, how may I—oh, it’s you again. Oh, it didn’t go through? Fffffu- _uhhh,_ I’m so sorry, if you’ll hold for just a second—”

The thing about Karkat is—he’s kind of a shitty receptionist. You can’t count on your hands the number of clients he’s lost to losing his temper or accidentally dropping a call. Honestly, it’s pretty surprising that he hasn’t been fired yet. You think it’s mostly ‘cause Feferi likes him too much, or is just too nice to fire him, but hey, you’re not complaining.

Karkat slams the phone down again, this time like he's sure it's over. “God, I fucking suck at this,” he complains. “You don’t think they’ve changed the commands again, do you?”

You bite your tongue really fucking hard to avoid saying something about how “they” hadn’t once changed the phone commands since you started working here.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say instead. “Anyway. I just popped by to get my, uh, my candy—” you gesture awkwardly to the lump in the corner of your mouth— “so I guess I’ll see you later, then. When I kick your ass at trivia night and all that.”

Karkat scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, Strider, if anyone’s getting their ass kicked tonight it’s sure as hell not gonna be—” The phone rings again and he growls, “ _Are you fucking_ — Crockercorp Paper Company, how may I— oh, it didn’t? I’m so sorry, our phones must be acting up again…”

You grab a sticky note from Karkat’s desk and scrawl its transfer then 2 then the extension on it, then slap it to his monitor.

Karkat shoots you a grateful look, says, “Oh yeah, I see the problem now, hold on a second, please,” presses the buttons decisively, and places the phone back down again.

A few desks away, Equius’s phone rings.

“Oh thank fuck, it worked,” Karkat sighs, relieved. “Thanks so fucking much, Dave.”

You shrug. “Maybe you will be the one getting your ass handed to you, then. If, y’know, they have questions about phone commands or—”

Karkat reaches out towards his computer, un-sticks the sticky note, crumples it up, and throws it in your face. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Ow, fuck,” you say, despite the sticky note bouncing off your shades and causing you virtually no harm. “Guess we’ll see tonight, then, won’t we, Vantas?”

“You bet your ass we will, Strider,” he retorts, and you slouch back to your desk, the last few bits of sweetness from the candy sinking into your tongue, leaving behind only the sharp edges that prick and sting.

* * *

In the end, just about everyone shows up for trivia night. The bar Feferi chooses sucks major ass, though, with kitschy decor and too-expensive drinks and a clientele composed almost exclusively of snotty nosed businessmen in wrinkly suits, because, honestly, who the hell does trivia night on a Friday?

Feferi pesters you all into sitting with your teammates, Sales at one table and Operations at another. You look around at your table and— yeah, you’re not winning this thing. You’re kinda super fucking shitty at trivia, and you’re pretty sure that Eridan and that other dude from Sales whose name you can’t remember for the life of you but looks like he’s constantly on the verge of shitting himself aren’t too great at it, either. Feferi had declared herself a part of your team, and while she’ll maybe cushion the blow somewhat, you’re still no match for the Operations team. Kanaya in HR talks like she swallowed a thesaurus as a baby, you’re pretty sure Sollux in Accounting hacked into the Pentagon during office hours once, Tavros in Personnel plays DnD so he probably isn’t stupid, you have no idea what Aradia does but she looks like she’s constantly on the verge of going apeshit so that probably speaks for itself, and Karkat is Karkat.

All things considered, you’re fucked.

The Operations team proceeds to win the first seven rounds, out of eight. Which means that, in the span of just over two hours, as per the free-drink-per-round-won rule, Karkat slams seven gin and tonics, and is what you can only describe as totally fucking _hammered_.

“Okay,” says the host, running a hand through his hair and matting it down again, “final round. Uh, we’ve got CPC Operations with a commanding lead, but don’t forget, winners of this round still get free drinks…” He throws Karkat a nervous look. “Although the bartender would like me to remind you that he reserves the right to refuse to serve anyone for any reason, thankyouverymuch. Onto our final categories, which are, uh, Elvis Presley, 1990s television, reptiles, and hockey—”

From the corner of your eye, you see Karkat lurch out of his chair, stumble into a wall, giggle to himself (apparently unhurt), and make his way unsteadily towards the men’s room. And your single beer must’ve had more of an impact on you than you’d realized, because without even really thinking about it, you mutter an excuse under your breath and follow.

The room is completely empty except for Karkat, who’s standing in front of one of the sinks and looking at himself in the mirror.

“You alright?” you ask, softly, letting the door close behind you.

Karkat turns to look at you and smiles real wide. “I am _kicking_ your ass,” he says, proudly, “might not know how t’transfer a call but I know my trivia.” He takes a step towards you, and your brain goes into fight-or-flight mode and somehow manages to select freeze.

“Didn’t really doubt you,” you manage to say, “congrats on the extra day off. You’ve earned it, dude.”

Karkat steps closer, again; he’s close enough to touch, now, and thank god your brain hasn’t figured out how to send signals to your limbs yet, or you’d have reached out and taken his face in your hands and—

“Oh my god,” Karkat says, like he’s suddenly stumbled across a litter of baby kittens or something, “I made Dave fucking Strider from Sales _congratulate_ me—”

You feel a whoosh somewhere at the base of your stomach, and you can tell that the sensation is about to spread to all sorts of totally inconvenient places, starting with, but definitely not limited to, your heart. You finally, finally manage to get your arms working again, and just as you begin to wrap one of them around Karkat’s shoulders he turns a funny color, says “Oh _fuck_ ,” and throws up all over your feet.

You suddenly regain complete working control over all your limbs and use that shit to steer Karkat in the direction of the nearest toilet. “C’mon,” you say, a little nonsensically, “you’re alright, c’mon, just breathe, dude.”

Karkat throws up again, this time, mercifully, in the toilet. You get up to grab a paper towel, dampen it with warm water, and return to the stall where Karkat is hunched over, gripping the toilet with both hands. You carefully place one hand on his back.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karkat babbles, sounding a little like he might cry, “I’ve probably ruined your shoes, oh my _god_ , I’m—”

He has, and they were way more expensive than you could afford, but you just make a soft generic comfort-noise and reach up to dab at Karkat’s face with the damp paper towel till he stops looking like he’s gonna puke.

“I’m sorry,” Karkat says, again, once you rise to throw out the paper towel.

You shrug. “It’s alright, man, really. Happens to all of us.” The poor guy still looks miserable so you grin and tack on, “Sides, there’s a silver lining, right?”

“What, what silver lining?”

“Well, you’ve won an extra day off, haven’t you? So you’ve got, like, an extra day to recover.”

“Yeah,” Karkat says, smiling again, “I _have_!”

“You need a ride home?” you ask, cautiously, “Or—”

Karkat shakes his head, winces, and shakes it again, more carefully. “K’naya’s got me, she lives nearby. Actually—” he staggers to his feet— “should prob’ly go find her, make sure she hasn’t left.”

“Cool,” you say, and then are suddenly seized with the impulse to bump fists or something. “So, uh. See you Tuesday, then, huh?”

“See you Tuesday,” Karkat says, and stumbles carefully out of the room.

You stare after him a minute, then get to work on de-vomitizing your Jordans. They aren’t waterproof.

Yet… the night wasn’t half bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so so tired but i was watching the office and when jim used pams last name as a term of endearment i was like what if davekat 
> 
> also theres prob a SHIT TON of typos in here sorry!!!! ill check those out later


	2. Chapter 2

On Tuesday, you come in to find an envelope on your desk with STRIDER scrawled across the front. You shoot a glance at Reception on reflex, but Karkat’s staring holes into his computer and typing real fast, so you take the hint.

There’s a note inside. You stuff the envelope in your pocket before scanning over it.

DAVE,

I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS HOW SORRY I AM FOR FRIDAY NIGHT LEST I FUCKING EXPLODE VIA SHEER SELF-FLAGELLATION. I HOPE THIS IS ENOUGH TO COVER THE COST OF YOUR SHOES, OR AT LEAST ENOUGH TO PAY FOR REPAIRING THEM.

SORRY AGAIN,  
KARKAT 

The money attached is for way less than your shoes had cost but way more than you think Karkat can easily afford. You fold the note into a square and carefully slide it into your pocket, turning on your computer and sneaking a glance over at Reception every now and then. Karkat won’t look at you, and you’re starting to wonder exactly how much of Friday night he actually even remembers. He definitely didn’t forget vomiting on your shoes, and the way he didn’t really acknowledge your presence when you came in this morning— except for a brief ‘thanks’ when you gave him his coffee— could _possibly_ be day-after regret. If he remembers gushing over you that night and wants to take it back, feels so embarrassed about it that he won’t even look your way— well, yeah, that’d easily explain it.

You can’t pretend that you haven’t been spending a fucking absurd amount of time thinking about the way he said your name that night, and an even absurder amount of time daydreaming about what might’ve happened if Karkat hadn’t thrown up (nothing, nothing would’ve happened, he was drunk, you know that). But you can’t, won’t, trade that little smidgen of hope in for the chill thing you have with him right now. It’s just way more than you’re willing to risk.

You open up Slack and, after thinking about it for half a second, slide into his DMs.

Dave Strider: hey

Dave Strider: so first of all i just wanted to say

Dave Strider: thanks for the cash but its like 

Dave Strider: totally unnecessary 

Dave Strider: you know that right 

Dave Strider: yeah you drank a lil too much and kinda threw up all over my feet but it happens to the best of us dude no hard feelings 

Dave Strider: and honestly i think the best thing to do is put this all behind us and straight up pretend it never happened as far as i know trivia night ended after round seven 

You hit send on the last message and, a second later, see Karkat swivel around to face you, relief written all over him.

Karkat Vantas: OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH. 

Karkat Vantas: IT WAS EMBARRASSING AS FUCK AND I’D BE SO FUCKING THANKFUL IF WE COULD JUST FORGET THAT WHOLE EVENING EVER HAPPENED. 

Dave Strider: what whole evening 

Karkat Vantas: THANKS. I MEAN IT. 

You look over at Reception again, and see Karkat smiling at you. It’s pretty lame that you’re just three years short of thirty and his smile still makes you weak in the knees.

Karkat Vantas: IF THERE’S ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU, LET ME KNOW, OKAY? 

Dave Strider: yeah ill keep that in mind 

Dave Strider: actually you know what 

Dave Strider: wanna help me piss off eridan again 

Karkat Vantas: FUCK YES. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a response when you’re interrupted by the sound of Feferi marching into her office and slamming her door shut. You look around the room, a little startled, but there’s no sign of what might’ve caused that.

Karkat Vantas: WHAT’S GOING ON WITH HER? 

Dave Strider: no idea 

Dave Strider: any weird memos run across your desk lately 

Karkat Vantas: TECHNICALLY, I’M NOT ALLOWED TO TELL YOU. BUT NO. 

Karkat Vantas: I DID TRANSFER A CALL FROM HR A FEW MINUTES AGO, THOUGH. IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THAT? 

Dave Strider: maybe she got fired 

Karkat Vantas: MAYBE. 

Karkat Vantas: YOU SHOULD GO ASK HER. SHE LIKES YOU. 

Dave Strider: hahaha what 

Dave Strider: no 

Dave Strider: she doesnt like me man

Dave Strider: well not any more than she likes anyone else 

Karkat Vantas: YES, SHE DOES! SOMEHOW, SHE THINKS YOU’RE COOL. 

Karkat Vantas: SHE TOLD ME HERSELF. 

Dave Strider: huh 

Dave Strider: i mean i am pretty fuckin cool so 

Dave Strider: cant really blame her i guess 

Karkat Vantas: GO ASK HER WHAT’S GOING ON. 

Dave Strider: uhhh no way 

Dave Strider: dont care how cool she thinks i am im not gettin all up in her grill when shes like this 

Dave Strider: you may not know this but she kinda scares the living shit out of me 

Karkat Vantas: COME ON, DAVE. PLEASE???? 

Dave Strider: four whole question marks damn 

Dave Strider: you really are desperate huh 

You glance up at Karkat, who’s looking at you with what can only be described as the puppiest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. Your mouth twists into a smile.

Dave Strider: fine fine 

Dave Strider: if she snaps and feeds me to her piranhas or somethin im totally haunting your ass dude 

Karkat Vantas: THANKS :) 

You stare at that smiley face for like seven seconds straight, trying to lock the image of it in your mind. (god you’re so, _so_ lame; worse than a preteen with their first crush, if hopeless pining was an art you’d easily be its fucking picasso.)

Dave Strider: alright here goes nothing 

You get up from your chair and stride towards Feferi’s office, shooting Karkat a mock salute as you pass Reception. He shows you his favorite finger but the twinkle in his eyes is pure and true.

You knock on Feferi’s door.

“Who is it?” comes the response, then Feferi’s head pops up the window. “Oh. You. Come in.”

“Noticed you seemed kinda down,” you say, walking in, “wondered if there was anything I could do to help.”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do. We’re in for it now, Dave. This is the end.”

“The end? What d’you mean?”

Feferi looks at you appraisingly. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure,” you lie.

She beckons you closer. “I just got a call from the head office,” she says, “that there’s going to be downsizing. I’m gonna have to fire someone.”

“Oh wow,” you say. “That’s… that sucks. Wow.”

She nods vigorously. “I know! I mean, come on, how is it fair that I should have to go through that? I have to pick someone, and then I have to sit down with them and tell them they’re fired! Do you have any idea how emotionally taxing that’s going to be?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I mean, no, nah. No idea.”

She ignores you. “I think Kanaya should do it. She’s HR, isn’t she supposed to be the strict one? I’m supposed to be the _fun_ one!”

“You know who it’s gonna be yet?” you ask. “I mean, uh, is it gonna be based on sales numbers, or…?” You’re pretty sure your numbers are better than Equius’s.

Feferi looks at you, appalled. “You sound just like them,” she accuses. “So cold. So emotionless.”

“So no, then?”

“You can’t measure a person’s value to this office in terms of numbers!”

“Kinda thought that was the point of numbers,” you say, “but you’re the boss.”

“Being the boss is _hard_ ,” she groans.

“Well,” you say, “if I can be, y’know, helpful at all—”

Feferi covers her eyes with the back of her hand. “Leave me to my suffering,” she says, waving a hand at you in dismissal.

“Cool,” you say, “so, uh, see you later, then,” and then get out of her office before she decides to fire you just for standing there or something.

“Well?” Karkat hisses as you pass his desk.

“Downsizing,” you say, drumming your fingers on the desktop.

“ _Shit_. Who?”

“I dunno. Could be anyone.”

“It’s me,” Karkat groans, slaps a hand over his face. “It’s me. I can feel it. I’m useless. She’s gonna fire me. Oh god, oh fuck. I’m doomed.”

“You’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “I’m thinkin’ she’ll pick someone from a department that’s got loads of staff members. Like Accounting. Or Sales.”

“Oh—” Karkat’s brow furrows— “Well, you’re safe, right? It pains me to admit it but you’re a fucking _great salesman_. They’d be stupid to let you go.”

You shrug. “Yeah, hope so.”

“Honestly? So do I,” he admits. “I’d go fucking insane without you.”

Your heart does the two-step. “Uh, same,” you manage to croak out. Your fingers drum faster on the reception desk.

Karkat reaches out and slaps a hand on yours to stop the drumming. “You’re nervous,” he says.

Your whole world narrows to his hand on yours, the warmth of his fingers, the softness of his palm. Every nerve tells you to look down, to see your hands touching, but you think if you do that you may literally burst into goddamn flames right then and there. Instead you look straight into his eyes, which is pretty fucking intense itself, even with the dark lenses between you.

“Nah,” you say weakly.

“Okay,” Karkat says, not sounding convinced. He lets it go.

You draw your hand back from the reception desk with the faint idea that you might never wash it again. “Anyway, I better get back. Got work to do,” you say.

Karkat nods in response, and you can feel his gaze on your back all the way to your desk.

You turn the possibility of getting fired over in your mind. On the positive side, you’d finally be free from this shitty job, with a decent severance package. You’d actually get to do something interesting with your life. (What exactly that might be, you got no idea. But almost anything has to be better than selling paper, right?) And if you weren’t employed at CPC anymore, the intra-office no-dating policy wouldn’t apply, and you’d actually get to ask Karkat out. Powered by Friday’s _Dave fucking Strider_ and today’s _I’d go fucking insane without you_ , you let yourself wonder whether Karkat might actually say yes. The negatives are slightly more obvious. No income, for one. No immediate prospects for other employment. And, obviously, Karkat might say _no_ , might not wanna date you, and then you’d be left both without a job and without the only thing that made that job worth having.

Overall, you don’t really think you wanna get fired, so you pick up the phone and begin dialing a customer’s number.

Equius pokes you in the stomach with a pencil.

“Ow,” you say, dropping the phone. “The hell, man?”

“I heard you speaking. To Karkat,” Equius says. “About downsizing.”

“And?” you ask, with forced nonchalance.

“And it’s happening? There’s going to be downsizing?”

You shake your head. “You got it all wrong, dude. We were talkin’ about the Matt Damon movie. Downsizing. Look it up. It’s not bad.”

Equius frowns. “Nice try.” He turns around to whisper something to Eridan, and you wince. The last thing you need is Feferi blaming you for the news getting out.

Karkat Vantas: OH GOD, DID THEY HEAR US? 

Dave Strider: yup 

Karkat Vantas: SO IT’LL BE ALL OVER THE OFFICE BY LUNCH. 

Dave Strider: yup 

Karkat Vantas: AND FEFERI’S GONNA BLAME YOU, WON’T SHE. 

Dave Strider: i mean most likely yeah 

Karkat Vantas: HOLD ON. I THINK I HAVE AN IDEA. 

Dave Strider: oh no oh fuck 

Karkat Vantas: DO YOU WANT MY HELP OR NOT! 

Dave Strider: yeah 

Karkat Vantas: THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE. 

Karkat gets up from his desk and leans over the cubicle wall to Accounting, sending you a glance as he does so. “Hey,” he says, softly enough that it sounds like he’s trying to be quiet but loudly enough that everyone can hear him anyway. “Sollux.”

Sollux pokes his head up over the wall. “What?” he snaps.

“I just got this memo from the head office,” Karkat continues, “and apparently there’s gonna be downsizing.”

“Okay. Why’re you telling me?” Sollux asks. “And not your pal in Sales over there?”

You panic. For some reason, the most logical course of action seems to be to hide under your desk. So you do.

“What are you doing?” Eridan hisses, kicking at you.

“Dropped a pen,” you say, wishing you owned a pen.

“Well, I thought you might have more information,” Karkat’s hissing. “About the budget. Being in Accounting and all.”

You can’t see from under your desk, but you can practically hear Sollux rolling his eyes as he says, “No, I haven’t. Is that all? Some of us need to get back to work. We don’t spend all day flirting.”

You stay under your desk for another moment as Karkat growls something at Sollux, until Eridan kicks you again.

“Found that pen yet?”

“Shit, you know what,” you say, crawling out, “I think I left it at home.”

“Oh,” Eridan says, and you get back in your seat.

You have one new direct message.

Karkat Vantas: SOLLUX ALREADY TOLD ARADIA. SO IT’LL BE ALL OVER THE OFFICE BY LUNCHTIME, BUT AT LEAST FEFERI WON’T KNOW IT WAS YOU. 

Dave Strider: shes just gonna blame you instead 

Karkat Vantas: WELL I WAS NEVER TOLD NOT TO SPREAD IT AROUND, WAS I? 

You frown. Despite what you’d said earlier, you’re still not entirely sure that Karkat’s job is safe. Yeah, it wouldn’t be logical to eliminate the receptionist position, but you don’t really trust Feferi to be logical.

“Wait a minute,” Eridan says. “That doesn’t make any sense. If you dropped your pen—”

The news about downsizing is all over the office by lunchtime. So when Feferi finally emerges from her office around two, Eridan immediately stands up.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“The downsizing,” he says. “Not that I’m _afraid_ or anything. With my numbers. But some people have been talking.”

Feferi sighs. “This is _exactly_ what I didn’t want. And you all look so glum now! Ugh.” She looks around the office for a moment, and then snaps her fingers. “You know what? I’m going out, and when I come back, I’m going to have a surprise for everyone that’s going to turn your frowns upside down.”

She grabs her coat and darts out the door.

Karkat Vantas: WELL AT LEAST SHE DIDN’T SEEM CONCERNED ABOUT HOW THE INFORMATION GOT OUT. 

Instead of writing back, you just look up and smile at him in what you hope is reassurance. Karkat’s returning smile is much weaker than you’d like. But this isn’t a good time to be getting comments from Sollux about how much time you spend at Reception vs. your own desk, so instead of getting up you just settle in to actually focus on work for once.

Feferi returns a little over an hour later, carrying an unmarked brown paper bag. She scurries into her office for a few minutes, and comes out bagless.

“All right, listen up,” she says, clapping her hands together, “I have some good news.”

“There isn’t going to be downsizing?” Sollux asks.

Feferi shakes her head. “But I can report that the decision of who to let go has been made very easy for me. I’ve discovered that we have a thief in our midst.”

Your whole body relaxes. That’s okay, then, probably one of the accountants embezzling or something, nothing to worry about—

“Karkat,” Feferi says, clapping her hands together. “You’re fired.”

“ _What?_ ” Karkat screeches, standing up. His chair tips over.

“You’re fired,” Feferi says again. “For theft.”

“Wha— _I’ve never stolen anything!_ ” Karkat says, outraged, “you can’t do this to me, you can’t fire me, not on a false accusation! That’s fucking ridiculous! I’ll— you know what? I’m gonna call my union representative, that’s what I’ll do, and together we’ll fucking bust your ass. I’ve been at this stupid company seven years! _Seven years!_ And I’ll call my lawyer, too—”

“Yeah,” you butt in, as soon as your mind reboots from the critical systems failure it experienced when Feferi pointed at Karkat. “Yeah, I know a lawyer, actually, a hella good lawyer, she’s won, like, _tons_ of employment law cases, and she’ll totally take y’all’s company for everything it’s worth. And, actually, you know what?” You stand up, march over to the Reception desk, “I get, like, a shit ton of comments from clients on the daily ‘bout the amazing job Karkat does at reception. I had one of ‘em tell me,” you say, going on a limb, “that every time he comes into the office and Karkat greets him, and, and smiles at him, he feels important for once in his life. Like, like everything has meaning all of a sudden.”

You glance over at Karkat. You’re not sure what reaction you expected, or what reaction you even _wanted_ , but you can’t get anything out of the look on his face. Surprise, for sure, and a little bit of annoyance, and something else you can’t really identify.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Karkat hisses, quietly.

“Try’na help—” you start.

“Well, you’re not.”

There’s a moment of silence where you kinda desperately want the floor to open up into a swimming pool, It’s A Wonderful Life style, and make you disappear while also cooling the hot wave of embarrassment that’s rapidly overtaking your body.

“Gotcha!” Feferi says, loudly.

Karkat looks at her blankly.

“Gotcha!” she says again, like she isn’t sure he got the words right the first time. “Got you so good… it was a _prank_!” She beams at Karkat. “Fake firing. To boost morale!”

“I cannot _fucking_ believe,” Karkat says, softly but filled with immense rage, “that you could’ve possibly thought that might be funny.” His eyes icy cold, he takes his jacket from the rack and walks out the door without a glance behind him.

Feferi clears her throat. “Geez, he really doesn’t have any sense of humor, does he? Oh! Hang on, surprise part two.” She ducks into her office and comes back out with the paper bag. “Look! Fudge!” She offers you the bag.

You push it away. “I gotta—” you say, quietly, and then, heart racing, head out the door after Karkat, not bothering to finish the sentence.

You catch up to him in the parking lot.

“Karkat!” you call out. He whirls around to face you. “Look, I’m sorry if I, uh, crossed a line back there, I didn’t mean—”

“What did you think you were doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, a little hopelessly, “I panicked, I was just try’na help—”

“Well, you _didn’t_ , Dave.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just—” you exhale. “Man, you’re the only decent thing about this place. I couldn’t deal with the thought of you gettin’ fired.”

Something in Karkat’s face softens the slightest bit. “You know I—” he breaks off, and shakes his head, continuing in a different tone. “You didn’t have to make a fucking exhibition of yourself like that. Like I couldn’t handle the situation on my own.”

“No, yeah,” you say, “it’s not that, I just wanted to, to—”

“To protect me? That’s not your job,” he says. “I’m not your boyfriend, Dave.”

You recoil, like you’ve just been hit by some blunt object. “No,” you manage to say. “I—uh—no.”

And god you must be looking incredibly fucking pathetic, standing there stammering, because Karkat’s face softens again, no anger or annoyance left, only that expression you can’t really place. He says, almost too faint to hear, so quietly that you wonder if maybe you’re imagining it, “It’s not like I didn’t appreciate it, because I _did_. You, coming to my defense. I mean, I’m _really_ fucking grateful. It’s just… you heard what Sollux said, earlier, and after Friday, when I made such a fucking fool out of myself, I can’t… I can’t be seen as anyone’s accessory.” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Feferi’s the one I’m pissed at, you know. Not you.”

You shake your head. “No, I… I was outta line. I’m sorry. Really.”

Karkat nods. “I’d better get back up there, then.”

He hovers for a second, an unspoken invitation.

You stick your hands in your pockets. “Yeah, I’ll be right up.”

You don’t mean it as retribution—the opposite, actually. You wanna demonstrate just how little you view Karkat as an accessory, but from the hurt expression on his face, you think you fail at that, too.

You stay in the parking lot, alone, for about another five minutes, walking in circles and trying not to think.

When you come back upstairs, Feferi’s shut in her office, and everyone’s back to work.

On the way to your seat, you pull Karkat’s money out of your pocket and slide it across his desk.

Dave Strider: so 

Dave Strider: are we even now 

Karkat Vantas: YEAH. WE’RE EVEN. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANX for reading <3 also i misspelled karkats name 6 times while writing this I Am So Sleep Deprived


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